


indigoticus

by b0r3d_bl0gg3r



Series: Late Night Tumblr Prompts [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is asexual btw, Angst, Anxiety, Gen, Hunk is a good friend, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Some Fluff, Soulmates AU, lance is a romantic at heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0r3d_bl0gg3r/pseuds/b0r3d_bl0gg3r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where not having a soul mark is rare, but having more than one is like winning the Lottery. </p><p>
  <em> Twice. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1- Allura

* * *

 

Allura wakes up one day with her wrist glowing and her heart aching.

It's 5 in the morning and she's got to be up by 7 for school. She's 16 and the glowing isn't a surprise, but the pain certainly is.

She's heard all about the soulmate bond from her uncle Coran. How it glows the colour of your soulmate's eyes when you finally receive it, and how it makes you feel as if you're almost floating in bliss.

Allura feels none of that. Instead her other wrist too begins to glow and the pain sharpens to a point that it's unbearable.

She doesn't realise she's been screaming until she feels hands running through her hair, and her father's deep voice trying to calm her down.

Her father tries to coax her from under the covers, tries to get her to talk, but by then Allura's too mortified and tired to do more than shake her head.

"Tomorrow, papa." She whispers.

"Tomorrow." Her father echoes back like a promise.

 

* * *

 

 

Allura wakes up at 7 groggy and disorientated. She gets up and stretches lightly, going through her morning routine and rummaging around her closet for something to wear. She finally decides on a pale lilac sundress and golden sandals and makes her way downstairs.

Her father's in the kitchen frying eggs. He turns around and bends down so that Allura can plant a kiss on his cheek, "Coran's still sleeping, he had a late night."

Allura nods in understanding before grabbing a plate and the pitcher of grape juice. She seats herself facing away from her father, dreading the conversation about to come.

She's on her second piece of toast when he finally takes a seat next to her.

"Allura?" He asks gently, looking straight ahead. Allura smiles at the gesture, despite the fact she does not want to have this conversation, not yet.

"It's nothing." She tries, quickly trying to chew through her piece of toast and gulp down her glass of juice. The faster she's done the faster she can get out of this situation.

"Allura, please." It's the pleading tone in her father's voice that nearly breaks through Allura's resolve. But she's still too sore from last night's events and she's not quite sure what her father saw exactly.

She slides her chair away and places her plate in the sink, quickly forming a plan.

"What did you see?"

Her father continues to eat his food silently for another minute before replying, "I saw you in pain, dear daughter."

Allura's flinch goes unnoticed. She steels herself for what she's about to do, trying to reason with herself that it's the best course of action right now.

"I have got my bond." She says evenly, trying to inject the proper amount of excitement and apprehension that is expected from a 16 year old.

Her father nods and finally looks up, smiling, "That's wonderful, Allura. What does it say?"

She's suddenly grateful that showing your bond mark is equivalent to stripping naked. She doesn't want to show it to anyone, least of all her father.

"Lance."

Not when the mark on her left aches like regret-

"Ah, like that young man who's practically smitten with you?" Her father teases, smiling behind his glass of water. Allura's answering smile is small yet strained. She grabs her handbag off the counter, gives her father a farewell kiss and jogs out the house.

-and the mark on her right burns like loneliness.

 

* * *

 

Getting on the bus to school takes more willpower than Allura has ever had to use. Her wrists haven't stopped aching and she just _doesn't understand why._

Allura doesn't know of anyone with a double soul bond. She's heard stories, of course she has. Everyone has. About how a double soul bond is rarer than not having a soul bond at all, and how there have only ever been 3 recorded cases of it happening. Allura doesn't know how to tell the truth from the lies when she lives in a time where war is approaching and strong soul bonded pairs get drafted into the special task force.

She hates war. She can only imagine what they'd do to her if they found out she not only has one soul mate, but two. Having to leave her father and Coran behind, just to fight in a war of this country's own making, the mere thought leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Allura wants to be a diplomat to find peace and end the strife, not to engage in the front lines and bring forth more casualties. She gazes at the spot where her sleeves cover her wrists and decides to take a detour on the way home. She'll make sure no one finds out about this.

Especially not her soulmates.


	2. Chapter 2- Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soul bond leads to contradictory feelings.
> 
> (Or the one with Lance)

Lance moves through the school hallway like a man possessed. He's got somewhere important to be, and it's crucial that he times it just right.

His face breaks into a smile at the sight of the overhanging sign designating the room under it to be 'Biology Room A'.

_Ah, sweet, sweet angel. Where art thou!_

Lance reaches the door just as the bell rings, signalling the end of second period, and a swarm of 17 year olds rush out of the lab room. He catches sight of Hunk and eagerly waves him over, mouth moving before Hunk can even get out a greeting.

"Was she there?"

Hunk pauses, face twisting briefly before he smiles teasingly, "Who?"

"Hunk!" Lance whines, not taking his eyes of the, now, steady stream of students, "You do this every damn time bro."

Hunk sighs, "Yeah, well, so do you."

Lance glances to the right, taking note of the silver haired girl finally walking out with a folder tightly clutched to her chest and not a hair out of place.

Hunk tries not to notice how Lance swells up with joy when he calls out to her, and he especially ignores the feeling of rage that courses through him when his friend's calls go ignored.

He doesn't like how disappointment looks on Lance. And he hates the look of regret even more.

Lance shifts in place and stretches, used to the pitying glances his schoolmates have thrown at him since he started this little greeting ritual. He's living with the hope that she'll look at him one day, and he's not one to lose hope too easily.

"Come on, Lance." Hunk urges, slinging an arm around Lance's shoulder and leading him towards Wing B, in the opposite direction to the silver haired girl.

 

* * *

 

  
Lance wakes up one day at the age of 16 with hope in his heart and two names on his wrists.

The blue glow surrounding the marks is different, one paler than the other, but the feeling he gets from them is the same; Hope.

Because Lance is a romantic and he's lived with stories of heroes and heroines and princes and princesses and soulmates that saved the world.

He's lived with not much yet so much and he's so damn grateful and the soul mark is what he's been waiting for through it all. The mark bestowed on almost every being on the planet at the age of 16. He's lived with the fear of being the few that don't, but having two. _Two_!

Lance is filled with joy and his insides feel like bliss.

His parents are happy, yet Lance can sense their sadness lurking underneath. Despite what people think he's not stupid, he understands that he won't be able to showcase his mark for the world to see, won't be able to proudly display it out in the open.

But that doesn't mean Lance isn't proud, that he doesn't rejoice-

"What are their names?" His older sister asks him over breakfast the next day, slurping on milk and trying to feign disinterest.

Lance grins, rubbing his wrists tenderly as he replies, "Allura and Keith."

-because he's proud of whoever his soulmates are and he'll rejoice every. single. day.

 

* * *

 

He meets Allura when he's 12, she's best friends with Pidge and already in charge of all the girls in her class.

She punches him by accident one day during P.E and he falls in love.

"Lance!" Her voice is tinged with worry and makes the butterflies grow louder in his stomach. Her hand on his stomach makes him blush bright red and splutter about how he 'doesn't need a _girl_ to help him!'.

He regrets it immediately after and feels even worse when he catches the brief glimpse of hurt in her eyes.

Lance isn't the nicest boy in class, but he's been raised with 4 older sisters and 2 older brothers and he knows better than to make light of girls and belittle them.

"I'm s-

"What's going on!?" The assistant teacher interrupts him, jogging towards them in his purple spotted shirt and yellow trousers. Lance has never seen a human so colourful, yet with a personality so dull.

It's annoying, especially since he never gets to apologise and that's the last time Allura speaks to him directly.

The regret burns a hole in his heart so deep that he has no choice but to fill it with hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek what I'm doing with this?


	3. Keith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes your soul isn't as impressive as you think. 
> 
> (Or the one with Keith and a bridge)

Keith's 16th birthday goes by like all his other ones.

Except when it doesn't.

He wakes up at exactly 7am to brush his teeth and take a quick hot shower, it's a rarity he especially enjoys on these days.

After he stretches and goes through his normal morning routine of 'katas' that Luhan had taught him a few years ago, he deviates slightly and sits by his little square of a window. He sits there for half an hour and just thinks, he thinks and thinks because this year is special. This is the year he'll know if he's going to be alone forever.

He glances at his wrist when it starts to itch and his look of indifference gives way to a blatant display of childlike wonder as the writing glows the prettiest shade of blue he's ever seen.

The wonder only intensifies when his other wrist begins glowing as well, a shade of blue almost identical to his own, but lighter.

He waits till the itch resides and settles like an ache in his muscles- an ache so reminiscent of his workouts with Luhan that Keith almost cries then and there -it's a good kind of ache. One that he hopes he'll feel more of.

 

* * *

 

Keith's 5 when his parents leave him.

He listens obediently to the nice neighbour lady's murmurs of "how irresponsible of them" or "what a terrible thing to do to a child so young" and he even sits quietly through her gentle whispers of how he "doesn't deserve this".

But Keith knows. He sits and stares at the crumpled letter in the police man's hand as he tries to coax him out of the abandoned house and into the police car, and he knows. He knows that it's not his parents fault, and he knows more than anyone that he did deserve this.

Because why else would his parents-

His kind, amazing, loving, terrible, disgusting parents

-leave him?

It's only logical that he was a bad boy and deserved it.

It's only logical.

 

* * *

 

He meets Lance when he's 17 and living under a bridge.

Life after getting kicked out of the orphanage had been tough, made even tougher by his lack of proper education. No one was willing to employ a no name boy of dubious origin unless the job was recruitment into the armed forces, or something with a bit more of a black market feel to it.

But Keith had made _promises_ , promises to Luhan that he wouldn't ruin himself or his reputation- what little he has of it left -until he'd met his soul mates.

Keith's lying on his back on top of his ruined jacket when a lanky, brown haired boy comes running under, almost tripping over Keith in his attempt to get some ample cover from the downpour.

Keith straightens up into a sitting position to get a better look. What he sees does not impress.

The boy looks to be tall, maybe about 5"10, and of Latino origin. His hair is astoundingly well kept, and his jacket looks like the one Keith saw in that one shop he passed a few days back, the one that had a price tag that almost made Keith regret even looking at it.

But aside from the hair and the jacket the boy is a rain soaked mess. From his muddy shoes to the wet trousers, to the droplets of water splattering his face and slowly making their way down the bridge of his somewhat crooked nose. Keith follows the trajectory of the droplet until it falls into the cave of his upper lip and a tongue comes sweeping out to-

Keith shakes his head abruptly, quickly swallowing and trying to ignore the weird hot feeling at the base of his stomach, and calls out a sharp, "Hey."

The brunette turns around and glances in front of him in confusion, squinting as if he isn't quite sure he's seeing right.

Keith narrows his eyes and waits.

"Uh, sorry man," the brunette says haltingly, one hand reaching to rub the back of his neck as his figure slouches slightly, "I didn't uh, know this bridge was...taken...?" He trails off at the end, sounding deeply unsure.

Keith rolls his eyes and turns away. He's not going to dignify this boy with a response, he doesn't have to.

"Okay then?" The boy continues, sounding slightly indignant, "Well I'll just be on my way."

Keith doesn't turn back around until the sound of footsteps on rain soaked ground has faded and the itch of his mark has disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AhahahHAHA. How late am I?
> 
> I thought I should clear this up:
> 
> Lance is Cuban  
> Keith's Korean  
> Allura's South Asian (I'm not sure where specifically tho)


	4. Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura’s not sure at all, so she decides. She decides to take a step forward instead of the million steps she’s taken back.
> 
> (Or the one where there's a bowling alley but no actual bowling)

Allura’s meeting with Keith isn’t planned, and Allura doesn’t believe in fate enough to even indulge her friends when they tell her it’s always planned, that the soul marks seek each other out unintentionally, wanting to find the missing piece of their puzzle. The thought of something like that occurring, without her being able to do anything about, something so out of her control, it’s enough to scare her awake some nights.

She prefers how her father refers to the marks as two complete pieces that best complement each other. It’s a sweet thought, and those are the moments Allura fully cherishes, when her father relaxes and is able to speak to her about the bonds with a tinge of happiness rather than the ever-present sadness that usually plagues his voice. 

Her friends find her situation – the fact that she won’t meet with her soulmate despite knowing who they are – confusing. They don’t understand. They say they want to, but they just _can’t_ ; too used to how society has ingrained the concept of soulmates with nothing but romanticism.

They’re used to Allura’s eccentricities by now though. 

Like the fact that she hates milk yet can’t have cereal without it. Her fear of heights yet her love of roller coasters. The fact that she prefers to stay away from places that tend to acquire a large gathering of strangers, especially when she remains unaware of their names. 

Yet, somehow, they still manage to convince Allura to go bowling with them on the weekend. 

“Come on, Allura!” Hana had urged, her eyes widened for max appeal. Acxa had been standing off to the side, leaning against Allura’s locker and effectively stopping her from just walking away.

 _I should have just taken my book out during the lunch break_ , Allura thought despairingly. 

Acxa had also spent the whole time staring hard at the side of Allura’s head, as if she could telepathically communicate everything she had to say. 

Not like it had made a big difference in Allura’s final decision. 

(It had but she wasn’t openly admitting that to Acxa.)

Allura had sighed when Hana continued her pleas, her bottom lip jutted out into the most ridiculous pout she had ever seen on the small girl and had shifted her bag to the opposite shoulder in a nervous gesture. Unsure. “If I say yes-“ 

Hana’s whoop of joy had cut her off, and Acxa’s blooming smile had almost been enough for Allura to agree without the condition she had had in mind, especially since she’d known it would upset Acxa, soul marks were one of the only things Acxa was very sensitive about.

But then she’d turned around and high fived Hana, her smile switching to a smirk of triumph and Allura had felt her resolve strengthen. 

“If I say yes,” she had started again, Hana and Acxa turning to face her fully, “will you stop asking me about them?

Hana had quickly nodded her assent, but Allura remembered the look on Acxa’s face, how her smirk had diminished into something she couldn’t recognize, and it was almost like she had been transported back in time to three years ago.

 

Later, when Hana had left for her Biology class with a finalized plan to meet outside after school in front of the statue, Acxa had asked her, “Are you sure?”

Allura had understood why Acxa had, knew then that she only had her best interest at heart, because soulmates were something Acxa viewed as the pinnacle of happiness. For Allura, though, soul bonds were one aspect of her life she had no urge to speak out about to anyone, even her best friend.

“Yes.” Allura had answered after a pause and left it at that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they arrive at the bowling alley for their ‘bowling date’ – as Hana had so aptly decided to name it – the place is almost completely booked to the brim with students from the neighbouring high school. 

“They must get a discount.” Acxa snorts, eyeing a boy carrying two pairs of the hideous bowling shoes the place provides.

Anxiety crawls under Allura’s skin slowly, like an itch she can’t quite scratch. It threatens to infect her whole body the closer they get to their booth and the people. The feeling almost makes her sick to her stomach, but she refrains from making a spectacle of herself so early in the evening.

Despite the fact that she knows none of the people here except for her friends the feeling does not seem to be requited.

Allura observes from the corner of her eye how the three girls near the reception desk stare intensely at her hair, recognition flashing like knives in their eyes. She can only imagine how they see her family name in it, lining her head like a crown of thorns. Somedays she can feel the pricks, can see the blood dripping down her face in the bathroom mirror.

Her body shudders involuntarily and Allura’s anxiety spikes. 

“Allura,” Acxa nudges her, pointing towards Hana, who’s waving excitedly at them from alley six, and, Allura makes note, with a sigh of relief, of how it’s the one closest to the exit.  

They’re half way into their second game – Acxa won the first game easily, and Hana had demanded a rematch, _very_ vocally – when Allura excuses herself, ignoring Acxa’s inquiring look and Hana’s cry of “why now?”

The uncomfortable feeling of needing to relieve herself has won over her desire to stay within the safe confines of their booth. Allura curses herself for not going during the lull before their second game when Acxa had, but she hadn’t wanted to leave Hana alone.

Turns out her trip to the toilet goes off without a hitch.

It’s when she’s making her way back to her friends that the problem occurs.

Two boys, and really, they look no older than Allura herself, and shorter still, make their way over to her swiftly, blocking her path in a way that the whole ordeal almost feels pre-planned. With the satisfaction glinting in the shorter one’s eyes and the general sense of cocky accomplishment they seem to be radiating, they probably have.

Allura’s insides churn with disgust, but she keeps her expression pleasant, maybe she’s misjudged them, maybe she’s wrong and they just need to ask her something.

“Hey sweetheart, you free?”, the shorter one asks, flicking his dirty blonde hair out of his face and all of Allura’s previous calm disappears in a flash when the other boy, clad in the most hideous shade of green that Allura has ever seen, reaches forward to touch her hair.

Before she can open her mouth though-

 

(ready to scream _no, no, nonono_ she doesn’t want to be _touched, don’t touch me!_ )

 

-a pale arm grabs hold of the boy’s hand and shoves it away, the boy in green flailing to regain his balance. Allura catches glance of the flash of fear in the shorter one’s eyes before a body comes in between them, blocking sight of the two. She’s so grateful and relieved she doesn’t move.

“What are you doing?” the pale boy’s voice is deep, Allura notices, a rough quality to it as if from a lack of use. His hair is black and slightly curled from the ends.

She fails to take note of how her mark tingles.

The boys aren’t tall, but the pale one is shorter, yet they cower almost immediately. It’s a stranger occurrence when they turn to her and bow, apologies spilling out of their mouths like a tsunami of regret.

 _Hm_ , Allura glances at the boy in front of her, _interesting_.

As they leave the pale boy turns toward Allura, eyebrows scrunched up in concern. His eyes though, those grab a hold of Allura. They’re almost identical to hers except for the hint of grey clouding the center, making his gaze seem more intense.

She realizes the exact moment that he does, can see the faint, confused recognition lighting up his face, as if he knows her but doesn’t. It’s almost enough to get her sprinting away from him, but Axca’s words come back to her.

_Are you sure?_

_No_. Allura’s never been sure of what to make of her situation concerning soul bonds. She’s ignored one half with regret as an aftertaste for years now, and she’d hoped to never find the other.

Yet here he is, looking at her like she’s salvation and damnation and it’s too much and not enough. Allura’s not sure at all, so she decides. She decides to take a step forward instead of the million steps she’s taken back, away from the strangely sweet brown-haired boy seeking to make contact, away from her kind father who lost his soulmate and doesn’t want to lose his daughter, away from the friends who just want to help.

She takes a step towards the boy in front of her-

 

“Hello, my name is Allura.”

 

-and hopes she has made the right choice.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Allura doesn’t manage to get his number, Keith explains quietly that he doesn’t own a phone and instead manages to acquire a date, time and location to meet up later.

It leaves her feeling oddly giddy, like the first time she asked a boy out on a date.

(The date itself had been a horrible disaster, she’d spent the whole time trying to stop herself from thinking of her soul bonds that that had ended up all she could focus on. It was the first and last time she ever went on one.)

Except this isn’t a first date. Not really. It feels as if she’s about to meet with someone she’s known since she was born yet has never met. It’s odd but strangely pleasant.

She runs into Lance when she’s nearing the designated meeting place.

He’s running in from the left and she’s rushing herself – she’s already late by a full minute and that just _won’t do_ – when he fails to see her and body slams into her, sending them both skidding across the pavement. 

The sting of her ankle is faint, overpowered by the sudden flash of warmth that courses through her body. It’s there and gone. The feeling so foreign to the context of the situation that she’s left reeling by it. She glances up when she notices the tan hand extended to her.

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry Allura!” Lance splutters, fidgeting. His eyes roaming over her body in search of any visible injuries.

Allura’s still so shocked by everything that she fails to say anything in response and just stares at his offered hand.

“You okay?” Lance questions, concern evident in his tone.

Still Allura continues to stare, mind slowly coming down from her sudden high. The silence stretches until it’s uncomfortable, but Lance still steadfastly holds his hand out, and that’s what finally snaps Allura back into motion.

She understands why he continues to try and talk to her, but it’s disconcerting, the soul bond prevents her from knowing how genuine it is – even though something in her tells her _it is_.

“Allura?” Lance tries again, this time crouching down further till he’s almost eye level with her.

Allura makes eye contact and immediately regrets it. Lance’s eyes are the prettiest shade of blue she has ever seen, and now she won’t be able to ignore him, won’t be able to meet with her other soul bond with a clean conscience if he’s not there.

“Lance.” Allura takes his hand and Lance hoists her up, scrambling back when she’s upright. She doesn’t let go of his hand and he stares, transfixed. Allura strengthens her resolve and says, “Come with me.”

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like so late uhhhh, im sorry?

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I've become Voltron (2016) trash, it's official.
> 
> I've started planning a proper UNI/college AU for this series but this Soulmates AU is more like a late night breather after a day of gruelling work that'll be unedited and randomly updated and tbh won't make much sense in the long run I apologise


End file.
